


Percentages

by dotfic



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-21
Updated: 2008-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony preferred to be an optimist when it came to odds and numbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Percentages

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Movieverse. Thank you to [](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/profile)[**musesfool**](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/) and [](http://mclittlebitch.livejournal.com/profile)[**mclittlebitch**](http://mclittlebitch.livejournal.com/) , the comma bringers, for beta reading.

Tony thought he must have been having one of those dreams again. The hyper-vivid ones he always woke from abruptly, the warmth of it within seconds fading to the flat, dull realization that it had only been a dream, dammit.

It wasn't as if he didn't get enough sex.

Anyway, he was probably dreaming and he could already feel the let-down at the edges of his mind, like disentangling from the suit after flight, when the adrenaline rush was gone, sweat drying on his skin.

Hell with it, might as well enjoy while it lasted, the creak of the leather couch, lingering taste of iced tea and lemons on Pepper's mouth, the fact that she was almost on top of him, saying nothing in protest as his hands slid up her back, under her tailored white blouse.

She made a soft sound, close to a sigh, with one hand curled against his hip, the other palm flat against his chest, over his t-shirt, just below the reactor that glowed in the shadow formed between their bodies.

He was hazy on the details of how exactly they'd ended up like this, and he was pretty sure, well, okay, seventy percent sure...sixty-five percent sure she'd leaned in and kissed him first. Not that it mattered, because it was probably just one of those dreams. More vivid than usual, because he could smell her shampoo strongly--nothing herbal or flowery, a direct, no-nonsense expensive-smelling shampoo that probably came only from a salon.

Also, not that he minded at all, but he was getting a crick in his neck from trying to kiss her back but not move too much because if he moved, that would be it. It'd be over. Which was really uncomfortable, and those dreams tended to be on the blissful side without practical considerations like stiff muscles or the ache in his arm from slamming against the side of a building on his last mission, or MSNBC still blathering away on the plasma television.

Not that he minded, no, not at all because the pressure of Pepper's hands was pushing him deeper into the soft leather, and it was really so much like the dreams except they were both still clothed. Tony started turning over a way to modify the situation.

But had Pepper said something about a conference call in ten minutes?

Probably not a dream, if he was thinking about a conference call. Why he was thinking about a conference call was beyond him. At no point in the dreams did he worry about conference calls, and even in his waking life, Tony never used to worry so much about conference calls. However, this one was with the CEO and head engineer of a manufacturer that had a breakthrough material that could withstand ridiculously high levels of heat and protection against some radiation. It was flexible material he could incorporate into the suit.

Heat, shmeat. To hell with the conference call.

In his arms, Pepper stilled.

Crap.

"Tony," she mumbled, and pushed up a bit to stare down at him, her eyes widening a bit, before a little concerned crease formed in the middle of her forehead, which was adorable. "You have a conference call." She let out a breath and then slid off of him, tucked loose strands of red hair back into place, tugged her skirt back down, and picked up her bluetooth headset.

He made no move to sit up, staying right where she'd placed him, slouched back into the corner of the couch where the back met the arm. Hopeful.

At least she'd called him by his first name.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have..." Pepper grabbed her laptop, wouldn't look at him.

He sat up. "No, I'm sorry. You're right, we..." He cleared his throat.

This wasn't going at all the way he'd hoped.

Stupid conference call.

He watched the blush rise along her neck, into her face. Pepper began straightening up the papers on the table with crisp, sharp movements while he tried not to look at the curve of her ass a few feet from his hand.

She sat down on the couch again, gingerly, like it was made of rough rock, smoothing her skirt under her. The blush was gone; she looked as cool and calm as the glass of iced tea left half-finished on the table. He thought he saw her jaw clench, but then she smiled at him brightly, her eyes carefully guarded.

"Shall we call them now, Mr. Stark?"

"Yes, Pepper. Let's do that."

He kept to his side of the couch, careful not to touch her, or look like he was thinking of touching her, although she seemed comfortable enough with him now, as if nothing had happened.

As if she hadn't just jumped his bones.

He was ninety-percent sure...no, seventy-five percent...no, sixty percent sure she might do it again someday.

Okay, maybe thirty percent. Tony preferred to be an optimist when it came to odds and numbers and so he upped it back to a seventy-five percent certainty Pepper might, at any moment, suddenly have the urge to kiss him again and act on it.

Hey, he could always dream.


End file.
